


Buzz

by orca_mandaeru



Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orca_mandaeru/pseuds/orca_mandaeru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scene written in Hugh's perspective instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buzz

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my work; it's my friend's. She asked me to post it for her because she doesn't have an account.  
> Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. Not the characters; not the book.

Hugh crouched between the train and platform, listening as the band of wights barked orders to his friends. So close, he thought miserably as he watched the train slowly chug away. That train had been their only chance to London, and now it was gone. Along with Bronwyn’s trunk, he thought. And Miss Peregrine.   
His eyes widened. Watching the wights march away with his friends at gunpoint, they hardened. Even if they had lost Miss Peregrine, he was going to get his only friends back.   
Hugh opened his mouth just enough to let one lone bee fly out. As it hovered in his cupped hand, he whispered to it. “Follow them,” he said under his breath. “Find Jacob and stay with him. He should get the message.” He held his hand out, and the bee buzzed after them.  
Ducking behind building, barrels, and carts, Hugh made his way back down the streets of Coal. He noticed Jacob see the bee and count the terrified people in front of him. He saw his face contort, torn between shock and joy. Only six, Hugh could almost hear him think. Where’s Hugh?   
“Back in line!” a wight ordered Jacob, who, with a face of steel, obliged. Suddenly, the entire peculiar parade gasped. Olive screamed and covered her eyes. Three horses lay dead on the side of the road. The gypsies, Hugh realized. He looked at the horse he had ridden now lying still in the grass, and felt disgusted and sick all at once. He felt his hands ball into fists. Three angry bees circled his head.  
He was more determined than ever now. He would rescue his friends, even if it killed him.   
Hugh soon found himself in a field behind a small shack. The tromping of boots announced the arrival of the wights and his friends. Hugh stayed ducked under a canopy of tall grass, all the while hearing yells of pain and barked questions from within the tiny wooden house. Finally, a soldier marched out and started down the path. In the process of shifting positions,   
Hugh disturbed a patch of brittle grass. Hearing the sound, the soldier whipped around. Hugh flattened himself. “Who’s there?” the soldier shouted. After a minute of silence, he began to search the grass. Hugh tensed as he heard him coming closer. 

Suddenly, everything stopped. Time seemed to slow down. A sound filled Hugh’s ears. It was the drone of insects. He became lost in it, letting it envelop him. An unseen force rose him up from his hiding place. As the wight raised its gun, Hugh raised his hands, but not in submission. With his hands, an army of bees and wasps materialized from within the grass. There they hung for a split second, then hurtled themselves at the wight, surrounding him.   
As the tip of his gun disappeared behind a sea of yellow and black, the wight fired, missing Hugh by an inch. Then, the sphere of bees disappeared, but inwards. The soldier was revealed. He looked rigid, standing crookedly, face frozen with shock. His mouth seemed to be clenched shut. As Hugh saw two faces, both with tell-tale blank eyes appear in the window, the half-paralyzed soldier turned to face the shack, gun sliding from his hands into the grass and wildflowers. He moved as though it were barely possible. 

After stillness for a few seconds, the wights head was thrown back, and the air in front of him exploded with bees. As the wight in the shack watched with terrified looks, Hugh spread his arms apart, then brought them together slowly, summoning thousands of every stinging, flying insect imaginable from the forest. He was not just speaking to them, nor controlling them. He had become one with them. He could feel them within him, the buzzing of five stinging armies, vibrating though his body. The insects formed a sphere around Hugh, who looked straight into the blank, pupiless wyes of the wights with a withering stare. The soldier in the field collapsed, revealing Hugh. The wight’s face contorted even more. One wight raised his gun and emptied it at him, causing him to duck into the green fortress of grass again. While the wights unloaded bullets into the field, Hugh sent a squadron of bees snaking through the grass, single-file. 

Once they were in the one-room shack, they began wreaking havoc on the wights, dive-bombing every blank-eye in sight. Someone shut the window, shielding the rest of the bees. Moving his hands like an orchestra conductor, Hugh formed a pulsating dome of yellow, cutting off the shack from the rest of the world. As though it had never existed. There was no shack, no wights, no horrible interrogation, only Hugh, his bees, and the foliage. 

After a few seconds of nothing but the deafening hum of bees, there was the sound of breaking glass. The solid yellow encasement caved in as the bees swarmed into the room. Screams and thumps erupted from the house, followed by the door wrenching open. The wights filed from the shack in terror, with the bees behind. Eventually, the bees caught up, surrounding them. Panicked screams came from the hazy sphere of bees, finally silencing after a few seconds. The bees parted, the only evidence of their coming being the bodies of the corrupted. The hum of insects died down as they returned to where they came from, until it seemed just a normal autumn day.  
Hugh nearly collapsed from exhaustion and excitement. He had opened up a whole new door to his peculiarity. And Enoch called it useless! he thought, smiling. He got up and stumbled into the shack, grass-stained and grinning like a madman. At the sight of him, the formerly silent shack erupted with cheers.   
Olive neatly floated up to the ceiling. Horace and Jacob beamed. Emma’s hands grew so warm they glowed. Hugh was showered in thanks from his friends, given cheers, salutes, and pats on the back from the gypsies. Hugh told them of how he had evaded capture, how he had followed them. “After that, it was just a matter of waiting,” he finished. Still talking and thanking Hugh, the band of peculiars left the shack and their thoughts of wights behind. They had a train to catch.


End file.
